


Got a Secret, Can You Keep it?

by viiperfang



Series: Adventures of the Freak Fam [5]
Category: Freak Fam - Fandom
Genre: Ace doesn't know how to help, Angst, Attempted Murder, Delusions, Fabian is a freak, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Oh Boy I'm Sorry Queenie, PTSD, Torture, allusions to past abuse, attempted execution, failed execution, kind of, shirk has some slightly nsfw comparisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiperfang/pseuds/viiperfang
Summary: "Tell me a secret, please?"Shirk pauses, then closes his book with a snap and a sigh.  "Have I ever told you how I got the scar down the center of my back?"After an innocent question, Shirk tells his datemates about his past, and how he got one of his worst scars. This causes some... issues he now has to work through.





	Got a Secret, Can You Keep it?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holdyourbreathfornow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdyourbreathfornow/gifts).

> Okay, I blame holdyourbreathfornow for this. She gave me the fucking prompt, and therefore it's her fault.  
Yeah, I'm blaming you, binch, what're gonna do about it. This is _your_ fault.
> 
> Prompt:  
Feverish Delirium And Mumbling **with dying**  
**Except Shirk doesn't die**
> 
> You never said anything about _almost_ dying, lmao.
> 
> Anyway, you're all going to hate my guts so l3

An easy silence has fallen over the four of them sprawled in various places in the main room of their shared apartment. Ace is stretched out on the floor on their back, a gaming system held above their head as they play one game or another, Disaster is in her favorite chair while scrolling through social media and watching some Netflix show on her laptop, and Shirk was on the couch, legs propped up on the table while a book is in his lap as he reads. Vinny was also on the couch, their legs atop Shirk's as they took up the rest of the couch, fiddling with their phone which made a noise every now and then.

Disaster looks up from her laptop and pulls and earbud out. "Hey Shirk," she calls, gaining his attention. His eyes slide towards hers, eyebrow cocked in a look that screams ' _ can't you see I'm busy, woman? _ ' "Tell me a secret, please?" This was a game they did when conversation lulled or when they wanted to know a fact about the other, and it extended to all of them. She won't admit she started it solely to get to know about Shirk, though, as it was harder getting him to talk about himself than getting a brick wall to.

Expecting some stupid fact about color preferences or his least favorite animal, she's taken aback when he pauses, then closes his book with a snap and a sigh. This also garners a curious glance from Vinny who looks up from their phone to gaze at him. "Have I ever told you how I got the scar down the center of my back?" He asks, setting the book aside and tugging nervously at his hair.  _ This _ catches Ace's attention now and the blue-hair person in question sits up to give Shirk their full attention, 3DS placed down and promptly forgotten.

"You've mentioned it," Vinny tells him quietly, "something about a bad run-in while you were still on your own?"

Shirk clicks his tongue, "something like that. Any of you fancy a story?"

Disaster frowns and leans forward, discarding her earbuds entirely and delegating her laptop to the table. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she cautions, only to be silenced by Shirk's glare. She narrows her eyes back.

"I don't," he mutters, "but, I dunno, this seems like something you should know. It's, fucking hell, I know about all of your lives and despite  _ dating _ me, I've said nothing about myself past the bare minumum. It's fucking selfish or whatever." He waves his hand as if he wasn't about to drop a bomb, before rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I know you're all curious, I've heard you whispering about it when you think I can't hear you."

Disaster shares a guilty look with Vinny and Ace that Shirk misses as he's still rubbing his eyes. "You sure you wanna do this, pal?" Vinny asks, shifting their legs off his lap to lean forward instead.

"Not really, but it's gotta happen sooner or later," Shirk huffs, raising an arm and inviting Vinny closer. They curl up against him side and he curls his arm around his shoulder, Vinny's presence seemingly calming him somewhat. Ace shifts closer, obviously quiet only because they want to know whatever Shirk's going to spill. Shirk just looks at them and rolls his eyes.

Though Disaster hated asking the question situated on her tongue, hated when Shirk drank, she also know he never got drunk and that it helped him somewhat when dealing with things. "You want a glass of something?"

Shirk shakes his head. "Better not," he answers honestly, shoulders sagging. "Mighty kind of you to ask, though."

With that, and no further interruptions, he begins with a deep breath and "So."

\--

His hands were tied behind him against a wooden pole in the floor. He was in some kind of old barn or slaughterhouse, from what he could remember, out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere-Californa, a hop, skip and a jump from the Rockies. He was blindfolded and gagged like some kind of fucked up BDSM, but Shirk was well aware this wasn't anything sexy. He had originally been out here on a hit against whatever small-time crew's leader that had messed with the wrong people, and had been instructed to work with a team that would meet up with him in a couple of day's time. He had come alone, early though, to scout out the area and take out the hit by himself if the opportunity presented itself, as he didn't work with teams, hadn't for a long time.

And the present itself it did, like a cat in heat. The woman in question had left the safety of the fortified farmhouse for a smoke break, and he had simply sidled up behind her and slit her throat with ease, knife slicing easily through skin and muscle as if they were butter. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was a man to walk around the corner and spot him lowering the body to the ground quietly, and it had all gone to shit from there.

So here he was, bound and gagged like some beast. The sound of movement surrounded him as people patrolled, and far off voices were carried on the wind, too distant to understand the words being discussed. As a pair of boots passed him and their footsteps faded, Shirk shifted his legs so his left one was further behind him, lifting his leg the best he could so he could reach it with his tied hands. He had a small knife tucked away, one they hadn't found—they took the rest of his weapons and his goddamn mask, and his jacket as well—and he could use it to free his hands so he could escape.

A sudden heel pressing into his back and forcing his face to the ground, his arms pulled painfully behind him put a stop to his movements. He inhaled dust as an unfamiliar, sharp voice spoke from above him. "What're we gonna do with the rat, Boss?" Her heel dug further into his spine and he would've bit her leg or headbutted her or something if he could.

His blood ran cold and all fight fled from his body, not unlike a scared jackrabbit, as an all too familiar voice replied in it's usual monotone fashion. "Well, he really fucked us over here, didn't he. I think a proper execution is in fashion."

"How so, Boss," another voice, similar to the first grinned, and Shirk had to suppress a shudder.

"Axe to the spine."

"Perfect, Boss," both voices cooed in unison. "I'll get everything prepared," the first announced while the second purred, "I'll get everyone gathered."

The foot on his back lifted and Shirk barely could hear their footsteps leave, it was like they floated over the damn floor. His head was lifted by his hair painfully, and he bared his teeth around the gag, thinking it was one of the similar voices, but  _ his _ voice spoke to him instead. "Now, lets see what rat has put a thorn in my side, hmm?" Shirk felt the blindfold being lifted from his face, and once light filtered in, nearly blinding him, he squinted up at a face he knew all too well.

And it seemed he remembered Shirk as well. Fabian's face contorted into shock, then sickening glee, a sadistic, crooked grin breaking through his cold exterior. "My,  _ my _ ," he whispered breathlessly, "look who we have here. Never thought I'd see you again,  _ brother _ ."

Shirk just glared daggers at Fabian, face wrinkled in a growl, refusing to look away. Some deep part of him rejoiced at the long scar that marred his adoptive brother's face, starting at his hairline and stretching the length of his face to just below his lips.  _ It's a shame _ , Shirk thought bitterly,  _ that I missed his fucking eye. Would've  _ loved _ to blind him. _

"Oh, how I longed to get my revenge. It's a shame it has to happen in such a dump, though," Fabian sighed, petting Shirk's hair like he was a fucking dog and making him feel sick, bile rising in his throat. "But, you  _ did _ bring this upon yourself. Never did learn not to meddle in other peoples' affairs, did you?" Fabian waited a beat before his face contorted to one of fake sadness. "Not going to even talk to you brother? You are so cold." Shirk just wrinkled his nose further in a sneer, knowing the bastard fully understood that he couldn't answer even though he sorely wished he could.

Fabian stands with a caressing touch up Shirk's face, this time succeeding in making the young man shudder involuntarily, and he couldn't help but flinch away from the predatory look in Fabian's eyes. "It's just about time," he mused, glancing at a watch on his wrist. "Vulpe and Corsac, the twins you met a moment ago, and Alces, who will personally be handling your execution, have heard  _ so _ much about how you betrayed your family. Oh, they'll be very pleased to know that you've been dealt with once and for all."

Shirk grunted and somehow worked the gag out of his mouth, only to snap his teeth at Fabian's hand, missing by mere centimeters as the man moves it just out of reach. "Fuck you," he exploded, spit and blood flying from his mouth. "You shitty bastard, you're not my family! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you–"

A swift kick to his temple temporarily quieted him, and Fabian tutted above him, staring impassively down at him. "Such crass language. Hold your tongue, Shirk, lest you want to lose it."

"You're fucking killing me anyway, what's a little more pain before  _ that _ happens," he snarled, blood dripping down his chin and staining his white undershirt. "You're a fucking disgusting, vile piece of  _ shit _ –"

"I said hold your  _ tongue _ , you  _ half-breed _ ," Fabian hissed, this time kicking downwards and slamming Shirk's head into the floor. He ground his foot into Shirk's skull. "I will not tolerate such insubordination from the likes of  _ you _ ." One of the twins' voices called out to Fabian, and his ever-present cool exterior replaced itself. He straightened up, brushed out the front of his shirt, and turned, leaving Shirk to spit blood and dirt from his mouth.

It seemed mere minutes before a cheering, jeering, and leering crowd had gathered under him, and it took that long for Shirk to realize he was on a raised wooden platform, the post directly in the center of it. Dust and dirt had accumulated from years of disuse, and it swirled up every time someone walked across the wooden planks. A literal bear of a man, flanked by the leaner forms of the twins, made their way over to stand behind him. Vulpe, Corsac, and Alces he presumed, and they looked just as mean as the worst Beast, and just what Fabian liked to use as playthings. Shirk hated them for merely existing.

"So," the more feminine of the twins, though which name corresponded to which he had no idea, called out to the gathered group. "In a  _ shocking _ turn of events, the little rat who oh-so-mercilessly killed dear old Petunia," there was a moment of silence as everyone lifted one of their hands, fingers miming claws, in a moment of solidarity. "Just so happens to be none other than the  _ traitor _ , Shirk, who killed his  _ own _ father and leader of the Beasts, George the Hunter. What a pleasant surprise that we, now, get to be the ones to avenge both of their deaths."

The crowd cheered and booed him, some picking up rocks and pelting him in anger, and he just sneered down at them. "I hope you're all ready for the show," the other twin hyped, stepping forward with a particularly wicked knife in their hand. "Because it's our job to make sure he feels every pain he caused us!" The crowd yelled again, more excitement and sadism this time. The second twin made their way in front of Shirk and used the knife to hack his shirt to pieces, uncaring—or perhaps it was purposeful?—that they sliced his skin open with each strike. Soon his shirt littered the floor, no more than scraps. 

The second twin lifted his head with their knife, and he bared his bloody teeth at them, snapping at the hand that got too close to his mouth. "Oh, he's a wiley one. Vulpe, care to see if you can change that?" This twin must've been Corsac, then.

Vulpe agreed and took Corsac's place, tilting his head to look her in the eyes with the toe of her heeled shoe. "Fuck you, you tramp," he spat. She just smiled down at him as the crowd 'ooh'ed. His head is forced farther upwards, craning at an uncomfortable angle, so he moved his legs to sit on his ass instead. He leg drew back to kick him in the chest or the face, but he lashed out first and kicked her other leg out from under her. She toppled to the floor with a screech, and he grinned at her with a vicious look in his eye.

He stiffened when cold metal pressed right between his shoulder-blades and down his spine. He craned his head around and came face-to-face with the curved head of a two-bladed battle axe, sharpened to have a deadly edge. He could already feel the sharp burn of it pressing into his skin, warm blood bubbling up and sliding in rivulets down his back to splash against the floor. His breath caught in his throat as he heard Fabian give the affirmation, and he watched as the blade rose higher and higher only to drop in one fell swoop as a dual set of heels pressed his shoulders to the floor.

The axe struck him right down his spine.

He couldn't scream.

All the air inside of him twisted and got stuck in his lungs as pure, burning agony overtook his body, every muscle in his body seizing and curling in on itself. He had assumed it would be painless and that he'd die instantly. He'd assumed wrong. Tears gathered in his eyes, and the last thing he heard was Fabian telling everyone to leave before the world went black.

\--

At some point in his story he got up and began to pace. He's now completely still, breathing heavily. He stops talking, and Disaster has to blink away the horror from her eyes to remember that his story wasn't currently happening. She looks as Shirk, whose eyes are screwed shut, face contorted into one of such pain it was as if he had been struck down again. His fists were clenched so tightly she could see blood dripping from his fingers. 

Vinny's trying to shake him out of whatever this is, his memories or something worse, but Shirk's head just jerks once, almost in a 'no' motion with no other response. "Shirk, hey, bud, it's okay. You're with us, it's not real." They place their hand on his back in what's meant to be a comforting touch, but this spurs Shirk into motion, who flinches away from the touch and collapses onto his knees, hands now scratching at the floorboards. He almost lands on top of Ace, who scrambles out of the way only to give Disaster a helpless look.

Disaster stands so quickly Ace flinches from their spot on the floor, and she makes her way over to Shirk, kneeling in front of him. Vinny is hovering by his left shoulder, and Ace makes their way to his right. He's letting out strangled moans every so often, eyes now open but unseeing and brimming with tears.

Disaster takes his face in her hands and rubs his cheeks, wiping away the tears that spill from his eyes. "Hey, hey, focus on me," she whispers. It takes an agonizingly long moment during which she thinks he didn't hear her, but his green eyes meet her brown ones, and her heart stutters at the fear in them.

"Please don't hurt me again," he manages, taut and weak. His breath catches and he flinches away from her hands only to bump into Ace with a cut off shriek that barely escapes the confines of his throat. He curls in on himself, burying his bloody palms into his hair and protecting his head from whatever fears have manifested themselves into the real world in place of his loved ones. He presses his forehead into the floor, and murmurs, "I'm so,  _ so _ sorry I killed him, Fabian. I-I didn't know what to do, I was young, but he was our  _ father _ ."

"Shhh, I'm not Fabian, you don't need to apologize," she tells him gently, not touching him again but moving so she was laying in front of him. His green eyes, distant and panicked and delirious, reminding her more of an abused dog than a human at the moment, look at her from underneath his arms.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, eyes narrowing. "Don't-don't fucking  _ lie _ to me. You're a lot of things, Fabian, a sadistic son of a fucking  _ whore _ being one, but don't you dare lie to me."

"Son of a  _ whore _ , nice" Ace mumbles beside her, only to get shushed by Vinny, and then promptly taken from the room.

Shirk winces at the movement, like he's waiting for another axe to his spine, but when it doesn't come he cautiously looks around and sees its only the two of them. "I'm not Fabian, promise. Pretty sure he didn't get expensive surgery to give him tits," she muses slightly, and to her relief, Shirk gives her a once-over and his eyes clear up somewhat.

"Disaster," he chokes, uncurling himself from his position and launching himself into her arms. He buries his face into her neck and heaves a shuddering breath that borders on a full-on sob. "What the  _ hell _ are you doing here? You're in fucking  _ danger _ –"

She just strokes his cheek and smiles at him. "We're in the apartment, the living room. I'm in no more danger here than I'd be taking a shit."

Shirk pulls away and seems to take in his surroundings for the first time in a while. "The apartment, right," he whispers, as if it's taking a moment for his memories to come back. "Where are Vinny and Ace," he asks suddenly, another edge of panic to his voice. "I-I remember them here before and I–"

"The other room, dear," she tells him, and they both flinch at the pet name that escapes accidentally. "Ace wasn't being particularly helpful so Vinny took him to the other room."

Shirk gives another shuddering sigh, shoulders shaking as he lifts his hands to rub at his face. "Fuckin  _ Christ _ ," he all but howls, slamming his knuckles onto the floor. "Fucking Christ! It's been–its been  _ years _ and yet I–"

"No more tonight," Disaster tells him, gathering his hand in hers, and pressing a kiss to every split knuckle before turning his hand over and pressing a kiss into the crescent moon shaped cuts in his palm. "We're done with this conversation for tonight. I think you've had enough trauma for one day."

He gives a wet laugh, almost lacking humor entirely, but it quickly turns into a sob, to which he covers his mouth with his other hand. "F-fucking Christ," he says again, hand shaking violently as the adrenelin leaves him in a rush. He hiccups, and Disaster gathers him in her arms. As he struggles to maintain any shred of composure he has left, Disaster sees Vinny poke their head from the other room, and she nods.

They and Ace carefully make their way over and wrap their own arms around Shirk. This seems to be the last crack in whatever walls he was trying to build because one huge shudder wrecks his body and he sobs in earnest, apologies for upsetting them and scaring them bubbling up between sobs and quiet assurances.

Between crying and what can only be called a flashback-turned-delusion, Shirk has exhausted any reserves of energy he had had. Being a good couple of days since he slept, and coupled with his ordeal, he's now beyond tired, and he slumps forward, too out of it to even cry anymore though tears still flow from his eyes. He tries to sit up but can't muster the strength to do so, and instead sags bonelessly until his face is pressed into the side of Disaster's neck.

"'m sorry," he sighs into her skin, eyes shut. "Sorry, 'm tired."

"Let's get to bed then?" she suggests.

"Don' wanna sleep," he says earnestly, frowning, "nightmares'll be bad tonight."

"You don't gotta sleep, buddy, but come lay down with us."

"'m not gonna sleep," he yawns, and staggers to his feet. His overtaxed body gives out, though, and he nearly falls on his face, only to be supported by Disaster on one side and Ace on the other.

"Woah, dude, please don't eat shit. It'd be so lame if you did it while standing," Ace smirks, and Shirk tiredly shoves their head. "Like, a total 1 out of 10, trust me."

"Fuck off," he mumbles, being helped into the bedroom. He drops onto the bed and lays exactly how he fell until Disaster climbs in next to him first. He curls up and burrows into her arms, with Vinny falling in place on his other side and wrapping their arms around him, too. Ace worms their way between Vinny and Shirk and koala-hugs Shirk, wrapping their arms and legs around him.

And for all his protests, he's out seconds after everyone gets settled, breathing evening out and face relaxing. Disaster presses a kiss into his hair while Vinny whispers "Good night, you big lug," and Ace just scoots closer to Shirk.

And if he awakens from a nightmare with a strangled yell, he has three pairs of hands and three "I love you"s to lull him back into sleep.


End file.
